Bravely and boldly entering a new school year

For years, I pondered tattoos. But what would getting inked teach my kids?

This summer, my sister sat in the chair at Blue Lotus Tattoo and Piercing while I watched with tense neck and wide eyes. Heather and I were getting matching dragonfly and anchor tattoos – hers on her wrists and mine on my ankles. As he brought the needle to Heather’s skin, Anthony, our 20-something heavily pierced and inked artist said, “So, what are you guys up to today?”

Are you kidding?!

WE’RE GETTING TATTOOS! No other plans needed!

I know it’s as common as getting a new hair color, but I’m 43. And I hate needles.

Back on my 40^th birthday, the tattoo seed was planted. I planned ink to celebrate four decades and to honor my parents. Mom and Dad died those terrible, slow cancer deaths. They were stellar parents. I love them. The tattoos would be small but incredibly meaningful. I was convinced: I’m doing this!

I didn’t do it.

I faced fear and doubt, along with the question: What would I be teaching my kids by permanently scarring my skin with ink?

Two years later, I wrote a story for Brava magazine on – ahem – “older” ladies getting inked. I was in awe, interviewing women with huge dragons breathing fire on their backs and full sleeves of flowers. “It’s freeing. I just feel like it has made me more comfortable in my own skin,” one said. Inspiring. Empowering. Gorgeous. Reasons these women got inked ranged from seeing their body as an artistic canvas to marking births and deaths and trials and triumphs of life. I was convinced: I’m totally getting a tattoo!

I didn’t get one.

… What would I be teaching my kids?

In the summer of 2014, I graduated from a 200-hour yoga training program. On a mind/body spiritual high and surrounded by lovely co-trainees, soulful women with awesome skin art, I thought, This is my time to get tattooed.

Apparently, it was not.

… What would I be teaching my kids?

Then one day this summer, my sister and I browsed dragonfly and anchor tattoos on Pinterest and, without fanfare, made an appointment at Blue Lotus.

… What would I be teaching my kids?

I began the justification process. Getting a tattoo would teach my girls, ages 11 (MJ) and 14 (Anna), to reject notions of conventional beauty, be their authentic selves without pleasing others, defy double standards about woman and purity, and just own their own skin. But the more reasons I found to support my theory that if I get a tattoo, it will empower my girls, the more I knew: 1) I’m not getting tattoos for anyone other than me, and 2) The reverse is true: My girls have empowered me.

My kids are privileged and lack for nothing. But they’ve been brave in the face of challenges: the ugly and untimely death of their grandfather, whom they dearly loved; moving to new schools; family illnesses. MJ has a birth disorder that requires medication and medical food morning and evening, blood tests and extra doctor visits. As an introvert, Anna’s pushed herself through speech competitions and lots of new experiences. Heck, these girls have dived off cliffs and been lowered by ropes down to dark underground lakes!

And just this month, I watched through tears as Anna walked through the doors of Memorial High School and MJ sat in the cafeteria of Jefferson Middle School on the first day of school. Were they nervous? Yes. Determined? Yes. They forge ahead with open minds, soft hearts and tough skin. They inspired me to toughen my own skin for that needle full of ink.

Home from the “tattoo palace”, I was accosted by girls dying to see my ankle art. “Mom, I love it!” and “Did it hurt?” and “I’m glad you finally got them. You’ve been waiting a long time.”

And what if my girls want to get inked?

Quiet and creative Anna lives on her own terms. If she wants a tattoo, she’ll draw it herself and might not even tell me about it. Unconventional MJ lives like an open book. She’s planning a tattoo of her spirit animal: a snail “… because every time I used play dough, it spoke to me and told me to make a snail”. (Yes, she really said that.) As the parenting phase of “slow letting go” begins, I have to trust my babies. I want them to live authentically, defining and redefining themselves, just as they’ve taught me to do.

So husband Scott, the girls and I march through the arch of new beginnings. Gone are those sweet elementary days, replaced with the edgier times of 6^th – 12^th grades and tattooed ankles.

Next up: Family piercings!